


i won't give us up

by professortennant



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Confessions, Episode: s04e05 Divide and Conquer, Episode: s04e10 Beneath the Surface, F/M, Fluff, Screw the Regs, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professortennant/pseuds/professortennant
Summary: “Sam, I have given my entire life to the United States military. But it has taken from me over and over again and I won't let them take you--take us--from me, too."After the events of Beneath the Surface, Jack doesn't want to go back to being Sir and Major; he wants to be Sam and Jack, regulations be damned.





	i won't give us up

The sun is dropping in the sky, dusky hues and striated clouds peppering the horizon, when Jack O’Neill knocks on her door. 

It’s only been three weeks since they promised the other that they would leave their hearts tangled up together in that observation room. It’s only been a few days since they had shed Thera and Jonah and donned the roles of Colonel and Major, Sir and Carter, once more. 

Except, for the first time since Charlie, Jack can’t quite muster up the strength to button up his Class As or shimmy into his BDUs. Not when he can still remember the press of her body against his, warding off his nightmares with her presence; not when he can so clearly remember the way she likes his fingers in her hair, stroking over the short strands and squeezing the nape of her neck before dragging his nails up over her scalp and starting over again; not since he now carries her dog tags around his neck--a trinket from the mines that he couldn’t quite give back to her. 

He feels robbed and wronged and when he rolls over at night, his hands still reach for her, aching to pull her closer.

So he’s here on her doorstep with his heart in his hands and the sun setting behind him, staring at a rumpled-looking Samantha Carter, dressed in a USAF sweatshirt and thin pajama pants. Her feet are bare and her toenails are painted a soft, coral pink. 

She looks soft and vulnerable and feminine and he clenches his fists at his side to keep himself from reaching for her, from muttering “C’mere” and wrapping her in his arms.

To her credit, she doesn’t look surprised to see him. She just swallows and steps to the side, opening her door to him with a quiet, “Sir.”

They stand in the hallway for a moment, the dim light of her lamp casting them in shadow. It’s quiet and intimate and for the first time since he got used to falling asleep in quilted orange uniforms with the sound of hissing steam in the background, he feels at ease. 

Sam crosses her arms over her chest and bites her lip, weight shifting from foot to foot. “What brings you here, sir?”

He frowns at the  _sir._ There was a time when he liked the honorific coming from her--liked to imagine her gasping it into his ear, appreciated the way his strong 2IC respected him, liked the way it felt more like a caress or pet name than a military deference. 

But now it’s a reminder of all the names she can’t call him. 

“Don’t,” he says sharply, eyes focused on her. “Not ‘sir,’ Not for this.” He steps closer and raises a hand to her face, fingers brushing the curve of her cheek.

She shudders and turns her hand into his touch almost involuntarily, her shoulders slouching and releasing the tension held there. Her hands fall from her chest and down to her side, one raising to brush against his hip. 

He wonders if she remembers the feel of his body, too; remembers the way she fit perfectly in his arms, pressed shoulder to ankle; remembers the way his mouth felt against her neck and jaw and lips. 

It’s been three days since they last touched each other like this.

She covers her hand with his and he sees the fight in her eyes--should she hold him there or force his hand away? He makes the decision for her.

Pushing his fingers into her hair, nails dragging along her scalp the way he knows she likes, he presses forward, shuffling closer. “I miss you,” he confesses. 

It happens in an instant: her eyes close and her mouth turns down into a frown and for a moment, she looks absolutely pained. But her hand tightens on his and when she looks at him, she is equal parts imploring and wanting. 

“We can’t _,_   _sir_. We both know the regs backwards and forwards. We  _can’t_.” She stresses his title, hoping to remind them of their duty, their honor. But instead, all he can focus on is the way her hand is clutching at his hip and holding his other hand to her cheek. 

He strokes his thumb over the curve of her cheek. “Sam, I have given my entire life to the United States military.” He keeps his voice low and soft to match the magnitude of the moment--the turning point of their relationship. Like a pipe with too must pressure and no release valve, something has to give.

She watches him, eyes darting between his eyes and mouth, her thumb subconsciously brushing alongside his hip bone through his jeans.

“The military has given me a lot--a career and opportunities and stability. It made me who I am and I will always, always be grateful.”

She nods against his palm in solemn agreement. She understands--of course she understands. She’s the same way; she’s made of the same stuff he is: military, discipline, adrenaline, honor, and duty. It’s part of the reason he loves her so damned much.

“But,” he continues. “It’s taken a lot from me, too.” 

He thinks about missed birthdays and firsts for Charlie and a couple of months of his life wasted away in the bottom of a desert prison in the middle of Iraq. He thinks about the loss of his son and his marriage and how things may have been different if he’d been home and not in the middle of a war-torn country. 

“Sam, I won’t let them take this, you-- _us_ \--from me, too.”

She sucks in a little breath of surprise and the hand at his hip tightens. “Jack,” she says quietly, eyes wide, his given name a puff of air across his lips.

He has more to say--he wants to tell her that he wants to kick down the door where their hearts are being chained up, restrained by regulations and rules. He wants to tell her that she makes him want to be a better man; that he loves her; the emotion is practically filling him up and bursting from his chest.

He leans in close, his nose brushing hers, his hand still on her cheek. “We can keep it in the room, if that’s what you want and I’ll wait for the day one of us retires. But it won’t change a damn thing for me.” He grips her face between his hands and crowds against her.

 “We  _deserve_  this, Carter. You and me and weekends together and vacations at the cabin and stupid fights about folding laundry and cooking dinner together and running Saturday errands together. We deserve that.”

She looks at him with wide eyes, perhaps surprised that he has thought of or desires this domestic future with her. But he also sees the hunger in her eyes--she wants this, them, just as badly as he does.

"Sam, you haven’t said much, here. You’re worrying me,” he teases, voice low and husky. He wonders if he short-circuited her brain.

She huffs out a laugh but doesn’t move away from his advances, instead turning her head and nuzzling his nose right back. “You kinda dropped a bomb here. I’m processing.”

He hums quietly, but doesn’t move. He just lets her think, heart thudding in his chest. She shifts and curls her fingers into the loop of his jeans, tugging him forward. He goes willingly, happy to be closer to her. She buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around him, inhaling. 

He feels more than hears her mumble something into his chest, the sound reverberating through his body. He laughs and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “You wanna share that with the class, Carter?”

She laughs and pulls away, eyes sparkling and hands clutching at his shirt. “I don’t want to leave it in the room. I want weekends together and your socks mixed in with mine. And I want to see the cabin, Jac--”

His mouth closes over hers before she can finish her sentence and it’s as electric as he remembers--mouth soft and pliant and hot against his own. Samantha Carter kisses with everything in her: rolling hips and hands clutching at his shoulders and side and threading into his hair and a sharp slip and slide of her tongue against his own.

But this time, it’s  _Sam._  Sam, not Thera, who kisses him with the full knowledge of who he is and what this means.

Her hands scrape over the chain of her dog tags around his neck and he shivers, shuffling them back and pressing her against the wall of her entryway. 

Their mouths press together, heads tilting together and teeth nipping at the other’s lips, pulling pain and pleasure out in equal measure. 

His hands sweep down her sides, slipping beneath her USAF sweatshirt and ghosting over the warm skin of her hips and belly, dipping low and teasing at the waistband of her pajama pants. 

She responds in kind and Jack learns quickly Samantha Carter is an ass man. Her hands make a beeline for his back pockets and squeeze his buttocks, pulling his body closer to hers, their bodies pressed together intimately.

Jack likes the way she groans out his given name in his ear when he rolls his hips against hers, his erection pressing into the crevice of her hip. He can feel how hot she is through the thin material of her pants. 

He pulls back, easing the intensity of the moment. Her lips follow after his, chasing his kiss, and he grins, pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“So,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Screw the regs?”

She bites her lip before nodding, pushing up onto her tiptoes and brushing their lips together again, like she’s remembering the taste and feel of him, too--steadily replacing memories of Jonah with memories of Jack.

“Screw the regs,” she confirms, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him back to her, unwilling to be apart from his quite yet. 

He sighs against her mouth and hauls her close, his heart finally liberated from a mine beneath a city and a locked room in the SGC. 

**Author's Note:**

> wee! come find me on tumblr (professortennant.tumblr.com) and drop an ask or message if you have other fic ideas you'd like me to write! i also post random headcanons/au there as well that don't always make it to AO3!


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